First Sight
by Snoball13
Summary: Oneshot. 'How would I explain it to her, this woman lying on my bed, this woman who had quite obviously chosen death, why I had chosen instead to give her this cursed form of life' Carlisle's tale of changing Esme, and his reasons why.


**First Sight**

It was late, and I was standing outside the morgue, waiting. Just when I had been about to leave, we had gotten a call saying that they had the body of a dead woman, and they were bringing it to us. I had offered to stay. What else did I have to do?

I heard voices around the corner, breaking the eerie silence. Had I been paying attention, I probably would have heard them sooner, but my mind was elsewhere tonight, with my son, or so I liked to think of him.

Edward was a new vampire, young not only by our own standards, but by human ones, as well. He had been only seventeen when I changed him, dying of the Spanish Influenza. His mother had begged me to save him by any means possible, and so I had.

The men wheeled the body around the corner, and when they reached me, one of them sighed wearily. "Dr. Cullen! Sad story, this one. Jumped off a cliff not an hour ago. Brought her straight here when we found her, but it was already too late. Reckon it was too late before she jumped. When they make up their minds to die, most of them do."

My eyes widened slightly. The men turned and walked back down the hall, leaving the body to my care.

Once they were gone, I heard something that shocked me, even more than the knowledge that I hadn't heard it earlier. The faintest of heartbeats was still beating in the woman's chest.

Very slowly, I pulled back a bit of the sheet covering her, and I recognized the face beneath it. Only days before, we had had her in, giving birth. Sadly, the child had died. Nothing could be done to save it, and even I had been unable to diagnose what was wrong, with my heightened senses.

Her face was calm, peaceful, and I couldn't help but see the love in her face, the care, despite her pain, which I would imagine she could feel even in unconsciousness, as substantial as her wounds were.

I was sure that it was the death of her son that had driven her to such extreme measures. My memory carried me back unwillingly to the night her child had died.

_We were all rushing around the room, trying to do something, anything, that would help the child to breathe. I was leaning over him, listening, watching, looking for any sign of what had happened, what had gone wrong._

_From my position, so close to him, I heard his heart thud extra hard several times, much too fast, and then it stopped abruptly. I stood, and said quietly, "It's over."_

_Everyone stopped, heads bowed, and I felt my cold, dead heart break for the child's mother, sitting in the other room, hoping for her child's life. It was my duty to tell her that it was too late, that her child, so young, was dead._

_It was completely irrational, I knew, that I should feel this much pain for a human. I saw humans die every day, those that we could not save._

_And yet, as I walked through the doors to the waiting room, the look on her drawn face sent another pang of remorse through me._

"_Ma'am," I said as I reached her. She stood, and followed me to the corner of the room. "I'm sorry. We couldn't save him."_

_I was almost surprised by the force of her reaction. She utterly and completely broke down in front of me. Her knees seemed to give out, and I reached out unthinkingly to steady her before she could fall._

_I led her carefully to the nearest available chair, allowing her to keep her firm grip on my hand. I hoped somewhere in my rational mind that she didn't notice how cold my skin was, but I knew that I didn't really care._

_She sobbed uncontrollably, and I wished that I could save her some of this pain, some of the grief of losing he only child. I wondered where her husband was, but I didn't ask._

_After a while, she released my hand and stood, swallowing to prevent more tears. She looked pale and tired, and I once again found myself wishing I could do something to help her._

"_I'm sorry," she whispered, composing herself as much as was possible._

"_It's fine," I said quietly, standing alongside her. "I understand."_

"_Thank you," she said, and then walked out of the room without another word. It wasn't until after she was gone that I realized, for no apparent reason, that I didn't know her name._

_As I walked back to the operation room, I suppressed the urge to walk to the desk in the waiting room and ask._

I forced my mind back into the present, and for some reason, I heard the words of Elizabeth Masen pass through my mind. "You must do everything in _your_ power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do…"

Shaking my head, I realized what it was that my subconscious had already decided that I must do. Wheeling the woman into the morgue, I looked down at her peaceful face and wondered if she would want this, were I to give her the choice.

It didn't matter, of course, not right now, because it was a moot point. I couldn't ask her, and I would never get the chance if I didn't do this. Somewhere inside of me, my heart was telling me that I wanted to have that chance.

Without another thought on the matter, I took one more look at the face of the nameless woman, and bent to gently sink my teeth into her throat.

The taste of her blood seeped onto my tongue, and it was better than Edward's had been, so much better. Later, I would ask myself if that was the Influenza in his blood, or something else.

And yet, despite the added sweetness, I somehow found it easier to release my hold on her, and move on to bite different areas where the venom would spread more quickly, make her pain more short-lived as she made the transformation.

It wasn't until after I had bitten every place I could think of to shorten the process that I used every bit of speed in me to race through town to my apartment.

As I sped through the door, Edward threw me a questioning look before he saw the body in my arms. For the second time in my extended lifetime I found myself placing someone else on my useless bed, whispering words of comfort to someone else as they went through a process that I was loathe to subject another to from the start of my existence.

I was grateful, then, for my son's ability to read my mind and know my thoughts, my reasons for changing her, so that I didn't have to try to find words for it. I found, as I thought through it, that I couldn't even truly explain this to myself, so how would I explain it to him?

Better yet, how would I explain it to her, this woman lying on my bed, this woman who had quite obviously chosen death, why I had chosen instead to give her this cursed form of life?

After what could have been minutes, or days, because I lost all track of time in my presence there at her side, I heard Edward make a phone call, and vaguely registered that he had told the hospital that I was sick and would not be in for several days.

I thanked him for it in my thoughts, still unable to speak. She never gained consciousness, for which I was glad. Perhaps it would ease her memory of the pain.

At the last, when I heard her final heartbeats, I was reminded of the final heartbeats of her son. Only this would be the start of a life, not the end of one.

Her eyes fluttered open to show their new, bright red color, and I saw the confusion in her eyes. She expected to be dead, but couldn't contemplate this as death, I assumed.

Recognition suddenly lit her eyes as she saw me, and said, "Where am I?"

I smiled at her. "I am Carlisle, and this is my son, Edward. You are in our home. We have a lot to explain to you."

She smiled back, but I could see the hesitance in her actions. "I'm Esme."

As she spoke her name in that soft bell-like voice, I recognized my reasoning, crazy as it seemed, in changing this beautiful woman, saving her from her self-proclaimed fate.

And I admitted it to myself freely, because I wasn't sure if I believed it, and didn't think I ever would. I had recognized something wonderful in her that I couldn't understand, but it brought out that small, instant reaction in me.

Love at first sight.

**A/N:**

Yay for the second in this, well, dare I call it a series? Yes, I suppose it is. Anyway, the ending is somewhat melodramatic, but in all the others I could see a distinct reason. With Esme, there was no reason given, so I made one up and it fit. I mean, really, who doesn't love Esme? Carlisle just loves her a little differently than the rest of us.

Coming soon: First Daughter  
Carlisle's tale of changing Rosalie, and the motivation behind it. Why give eternal life to the one who already had everything? But then, there is a price for all happiness.


End file.
